Fire In His Embrace: A Post-Apocalyptic Dragon Romance (Fireblood Dragon Book 3)

by Ruby Dixon

  I smile into the darkness of my room. Glad I could be of service. I learned a long time ago that if you dwell on the bad stuff, it’ll bring you down. Focus on the positive and control what you can.

  Right now the only thing in my control is our mind-link. His frustration seeps over to my thoughts.

  Then focus on it, I tell him cheerily. Focus on me.

  You are my world already. How can I focus on you more?

  “Try,” I mutter aloud so he doesn’t hear me.

  Astonishment blooms in my mind, and then laughter. You are frustrated with me? Because I do not try? He sounds amused.

  Me? I’m embarrassed to get caught. How did you hear that?

  I can hear your spoken words. I can see what you see, feel what you feel. Our minds are connected. It is the sharing of spirits. Do you not see through my eyes?

  Do I? I close my eyes and mentally try to squint, but the only thing I get is a scattershot of images, and those feel more like thoughts than actual sights. “I’m not sure that I am.”

  Maybe the link is not as strong with a human. He sounds troubled. Or perhaps because you rejected my seed—

  I gasp aloud. “Bullshit! I didn’t reject anything. I told you I was in a hurry!”

  For a drakoni, the greatest insult is to reject one’s seed.

  Well, it wasn’t a rejection! I almost tell him that next time he can come inside me, but then I stop myself, because I don’t know that there will be a next time.

  Oh, there will be. His thoughts are a sultry purr. You are my mate. I intend on claiming every bit of you. Next time, you will not straddle me when we mate. I will be the one on top and I will mount you properly.

  And even though I should be outraged or annoyed at his high-handedness and the fact that he’s plucking thoughts I don’t want to share, I’m a little turned on by his words. He sends a visual to me of his golden body over mine, his chest pressed to my back as he covers me and fucks me from behind.

  I had no idea that the mind-link between us would be this…intimate. Sasha had said it was a link via mating, but I never thought…

  Whew. Clearly I did not think this one through. I bite my lip, my breath coming quick, and I feel a flush moving through my body. Zohr, we’re strangers. I need to get to know you better before I think about having sex with you again.

  Lies. I can tell in your thoughts that you like the images I send you. His tone is sexy, entreating, as if he’s going to seduce me with words alone. If I cannot touch your body, I can at least touch your mind, can I not?

  I should tell him no, but it seems like such a small thing. And we’re already bonded, right? Right. So it shouldn’t matter.

  Just like it shouldn’t matter that my hand is stealing between my thighs, sliding under my panties.

  You touch yourself? The growl that permeates my mind is delicious. Is it because you dislike our mental bond so much?

  “Oh, touché.” Guess I walked into that one. I’m not touching myself, I lie.

  I can practically feel him snort with derision.

  It almost feels like a challenge or a dare at this point to respond to him. Kind of like…a flirty game between us. I slip a finger between my folds, and I’m not surprised to find that I’m wet. Really wet. How can I not be? He’s confronting me about sex and I can’t squirm away. A tiny part of me is appalled, but an even bigger part is aroused at being cornered and forced to acknowledge my desires.

  I like the images he’s sending to me. I like his possessive demeanor.

  And I’m fascinated at the thought of more between us. It’s not safe, but maybe that’s part of the appeal. Maybe I’m drawn to his wildness as much as anything.

  You like the thought of being mine, he sends back.

  “I’m my own person,” I whisper, but in my head, I’m still imagining his big golden body covering me. I think about how warm his skin would feel against mine, and I wonder what it’d be like to kiss him.

  Kiss?

  You don’t know what a kiss is? I feel silly, because of course we didn’t kiss when I went to see him. I was in a hurry. Maybe I should have kissed him. I send a mental image of mouths meeting, of tongues tangling together, and I get even more aroused at the thought of what it’d be like.

  Have you kissed many? he asks me.

  None, I admit. I was too young when we left the fort, and then I stayed with Jack, who was like a dad more than anything else. After that, I was alone and didn’t spend time with anyone. A loner in the After doesn’t get a lot of play.

  But I remember seeing them in movies and reading about it in books. I’ve seen other kisses since then, too, but they weren’t kisses like I like to remember them. In my mind, kisses are soft, gentle things full of love and affection. They’re not like the kisses I’ve seen the nomads give to Carol, which seem more like a punishment than anything, or the kisses that the whores back at Fort Tulsa would give to anyone who could pay.

  Kisses should be special.

  Like my seed.

  I giggle, because they don’t seem similar at all to me. Sure, we’ll go with that.

  I would kiss you correctly, Zohr tells me. However you want it. As often as you want my mouth on you. And he sends me another sexy visual. This time, he’s on top of me, pumping between my thighs, and I moan aloud at the sight. I watch our bodies move in fascination, and when the mental-Zohr tugs on mental-Emma’s hair to pull her back against him so he can kiss her? I press a finger deep inside my core, aching. Now that I’ve had sex with Zohr, I feel different inside somehow. Hollow with arousal, like I’ve got a piece missing. It never felt like that before.

  Your body misses mine.

  I think he’s right. I gasp at the realization and slide my fingers back to my clit, stroking it. I know he can feel this, just as he can feel everything I’m thinking. I can feel his arousal, as well, the unfulfilling ache of his cock as he thinks of me, the frustration.

  Do not think of me trapped, he sends, thoughts heavy with desire. Think of me with you. My mouth on yours. I would taste you everywhere.

  And he sends a visual of me on all fours, with his face between my thighs, tasting me—

  I cry out softly as a tiny release ripples through me. My thighs clench tightly together, and I pull my hand away because it’s too much. Orgasms get overwhelming fast, and it’s like playing with fire. I only get close enough to get warm, not to get burned.

  That is where you are wrong, my mate. Zohr’s sultry thoughts blanket my own chaotic ones. You should let the fire consume you. I will show you how when we come together once more.

  I can’t decide if I’m a little worried or fascinated at the thought.

  12

  EMMA

  “Azar wants to talk to you,” Trina tells me as she heads into the kitchen the next morning. It’s breakfast time, which means Azar gets to eat alone in the dining room while we slave away in the kitchen. She saunters to the sink to help Carol with the dishes. She smirks at me. “Must be hard to be the boss’s favorite.”

  I swallow the knot in my throat, worried. “I’m not his favorite.”

  She snorts. “Come on now. We weren’t born yesterday. Everyone knows”—and she nods at Carol, who’s trying to hide a smile—“that he’s put his claim on you. Won’t let anyone else touch you. Told the others that you’re off limits. That means he’s got his eye on you.” She winks at me as if we’re sharing a secret. “Just make sure you keep him happy, if you know what I mean. I was the personal friend of the leader back in Fort Vegas, and when he found something newer and with bigger tits, he sent me packing.”

  I’m appalled at the thought. “I’m not sleeping with Azar,” I protest again, but it’s clear the others don’t believe me. Is that why the guys here avoid grabbing me? Why they don’t hit on me like they do Carol and Trina, despite the fact that I’m half their age? Here I thought it was because Boyd had said something to them. But Boyd’s dead and…

  And I don’t know what to think.

  I
give my shirt a surreptitious sniff, but the perfume’s heavy and thick. Good. I wish I had time to go up and spritz myself again just to be on the safe side, but Trina’s giving me an expectant look, which tells me that Azar’s waiting for me. Shit.

  I’m surprised that Zohr hasn’t commented in my head about this. I mentally try to reach out to him, but I get nothing. Asleep, probably. Maybe that’s a good thing. I don’t need distractions when I’m dealing with Azar. Sucking up my courage, I head through the double doors into the dining room of the hotel. Might as well get it over with.

  Azar sits alone, the white tablecloth in stark contrast to the rest of the tables that are pushed into a cluster at the far end of the room. The windows are open to let in sunlight, and the way that the light hits his pale hair and skin, he looks almost angelic. Slowly, he turns a page in the magazine across from him and plucks at his morning fruit cocktail. “You’re here, I see. Not sick today?”

  “Me? No. I’m fine.”

  He slowly turns another page, chewing, and I see what looks like a picnic spread on the magazine pages. Is he reading Better Homes and Gardens? Books and magazines are at a premium in the After since no more are being made, and I’ve caught myself reading some strange stuff out of boredom and lack of fresh reading materials, but Azar doesn’t seem like the domestic type. He studies the page intently, then swallows and looks up at me.

  His pale eyes make me shiver. No sunglasses again today. Is he getting more comfortable with letting us see what he truly is? Or does he just not care anymore?

  “I need your undergarments once more,” Azar tells me, and calmly flips to the next page. “Tonight you will wash yourself appropriately and skip the perfume. You can reapply it in the morning after you’ve turned in your undergarments.”

  “You want another pair of panties?” I stare at him, uncomprehending. “Why?”

  He looks surprised that I question him, putting his fork down and lifting his gaze from his magazine to stare at me. His eyes are piercing, and despite myself, I feel frightened. I shouldn’t have said anything. But then he speaks, surprising me. “Why, to get another dragon, of course. Our method was so successful last time, I wish to use it again.”

  “Oh.” I don’t know what else to say. “Okay.”

  He returns to reading his magazine. “You may go.”

  I turn and practically race back to the kitchens, where both Carol and Trina snicker at my flustered look. If only they knew.

  Another dragon? The idea’s a terrible, awful one on its own…but Azar doesn’t know my secret. Now that I’ve mated with Zohr and taken his bite—his fires, as he called it—my scent’s changed. I don’t know that flying another pair of my panties is going to work.

  I don’t know what he’s going to do when he realizes that my scent’s changed.

  This could be really bad.

  ZOHR

  Worry rouses me from my sleep. It takes me a moment to realize that the frantic thoughts are not my own, but that of my mate. Emma is upset and her thoughts are flustered, bouncing from one idea to the next.

  What is it? I ask her, wishing again that I was free. The chains pull just as hard on me as ever and are doubly frustrating in light of her panic. Talk to me. Tell me what is wrong.

  Zohr? We have a problem. Her thoughts calm a little as her mind touches mine, and it gives me pleasure to realize I can be of some comfort to her, at least. You know how Azar’s guys captured you and brought you here?

  I followed your scent.

  Yeah, well, Azar wants to do the same thing again. Her panic rises once more. But you said my scent is different now, right? So how is that going to factor into things?

  I send her reassurance. No dragon will come for you. Your scent tells them that you are bonded to me. It will be ignored. No drakoni will touch another’s mate.

  That’s bad, she sends back, worried. That’s really bad. Azar’s going to know something’s wrong and then he’ll find out we’re together and he’ll try to use you.

  Bah. He can do nothing to sever our link.

  No, you don’t get it, Emma tells me, her thoughts full of worry. He’ll threaten me to try to make you get in line. He doesn’t care if I live or die as long as he can use me to control you.

  Her words make me uneasy and bring faint memories to mind. I remember this. I remember cruelty with Salorians. Of families torn apart, nests destroyed because it was the best way to make a warrior obey. My gut churns at the thought of Emma being hurt because this Salorian wishes to get to me. Do not let him hurt you, I tell her. I will speak with him—

  No! Emma’s thoughts are fierce and immediate. I may not know much, but I do know Sasha was determined not to let her dragon speak with Azar in his mind. She said he would take over him or control him or something. We can’t let that happen to you. As far as they need to know, you’re still crazy and beyond controlling.

  I will not let him harm you, I reply fiercely.

  I don’t plan on letting him harm me, either, she tells me back. We’re getting out of here tonight. I’m going to get my lockpicks and we’re going to get you free.

  I do not like this. I hate the thought that she will put herself in danger, but as long as I am trapped, what choice do we have? She must free me. After that…there will be no separating me from my mate.

  I must trust her. I must be patient a bit longer.

  13

  EMMA

  Night comes far too quickly, and by the time it gets dark, I still don’t have much of a plan. I search all day—surreptitiously—for the sleeping drugs that I know Azar has around here somewhere. Carol slipped them into Sasha’s food when she was held captive, so I know they work. But I can’t find them without being obvious about it and I end up abandoning that plan. I’ll have to think of some other way, then.

  Depending on who’s on guard duty, this can go a couple of different ways. If it’s anyone other than Kurt, I can lie and send that person off on a wild goose chase. If it’s Kurt, well, I’ll figure that out. I don’t like the thought of killing someone, but if I have to…

  I’ll cross that bridge when I get there, I guess.

  After dinner is served to the crew, I retreat to my room, citing a headache. It’s not a lie—my head’s pounding with worry over how we’re going to pull this off. No, I realize. There’s no “we.” I have to be the one to do this. No one can help, and I don’t trust any of the nomads to not betray me.

  If I live to see tomorrow, I’ll consider things a success. If I don’t…

  I just won’t think about that.

  I dig through my things, determining what I can carry on me and what I’ll have to leave behind. My trusty baseball bat has to stay. Carrying that will be too obvious. My lockpicks and a pair of handcuffs come with me, but I wrap them tightly in a bit of fabric to keep them from jingling. I have an old wallet with pictures of my parents and my family from before. That goes with. I slip on my heaviest boots and hide knives in them, along with a bit of money and the last of the granola bars. Most forts don’t take money anymore, but you never know. I put on my favorite shirt, layer it with another shirt for a back-up, and add a studded belt to my jeans, because it can double as a weapon in a pinch. A roll of duct tape goes up my arm like a heavy bracelet, but I’ve learned that duct tape is always useful, especially in an escape.

  When I can’t procrastinate any longer, I suck in a deep breath.

  You ready? I ask Zohr, who’s been quiet most of the afternoon. I’m guessing he’s pretty worried about me. I know that feeling—I’m pretty worried about me, too. But we’re in this together and I’m not leaving him. I’m not about to let Azar use him.

  Of course. Free me and I will rend our enemies limb from limb.

  We’re not rending anyone limb from limb, I tell him quickly. We’re just getting the fuck out of here.

  His thoughts are colored with surprise. You do not wish revenge?

  I just want to be left alone. That’s all. I can tell by his thoughts that he d
isagrees with me. We can argue about it later.

  It’s quiet in the hotel, and I wait, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, until it’s late and I can be sure everyone’s in bed. When it feels like the right time, I crack my door open and glance down the hall. No one’s in sight. I lock my door behind me and flip the little “Do not Disturb” sign on the doorknob. If someone comes looking for me, let them think I’m sleeping. By the time anyone comes to look, we’ll be long gone.

  I creep down the halls, my skin prickling with awareness of every noise, every creak of the floors, every distant bark of a wild dog. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, but tonight, I’m on edge. I manage to make it to the lobby of the hotel and suck in a breath when I see two guards up front, smoking cigarettes. One’s got a gun shouldered and the other’s seated across from him, laughing.

  Fuck. Why are there guards? I slide back into the shadows of the hallway and press against the wall, panting with fear.

  Are those men normally not there? Zohr asks, picking my thoughts from the air. Can you avoid them?

  I’m going to have to.

  Do not risk yourself.

  I don’t answer. I close my eyes, willing myself to calm down. Our escape has to be tonight. I can’t wait for tomorrow for Azar to find out that my scent’s changed. I don’t want him to realize that Zohr’s no longer crazy and try to manipulate him. We can’t wait. Already Zohr’s been kept captive too long.

  This is our moment…just as soon as I get out of this hotel.

  I retreat to the second floor and try the doorknobs of a few empty rooms. I know most of the nomads are staying on the first floor, where the windows aren’t as broken. Here on the second floor, I’m looking for a broken window so I can escape out. I try a few doorknobs, and when none open, I pick the lock of the next and then slip inside. Luckily for me, the window in this room is broken, a few jagged glass shards sticking up. I pluck the shards off of the windowsill and stick the largest one in my boot for safekeeping. A girl can never have too many weapons. Once the sill is cleared, I lean out and check how far below the ground is. Too far for a jump, that’s for sure. I glance down the side of the building, but I don’t see other guards. Okay then. I can make this work.